Heaven Knows
by Violet Phoenix Rising
Summary: Natasha is a Roman street rat without a place. Can an Egyptian teen bent on becoming Pharaoh of the world give her that second chance? Rated T for language. I apologize for my absense. You can expect a new chapter in a month's time.
1. Chapter 1

**Heaven Knows**

**Chapter One: A Chance Encounter?**

**(mutters) A fine thing when I can get more done during school than in the summer...**

**Hey guys, Violet Phoenix Rising here. This is my first Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic and second fanfiction on this site. My other fanfic is Xiaolin Showdown, titled "The Ninja-ko and the Tai-Chi Master." **

**I've had this idea in my head for a while, and I decided to play with it for now, seeing as how I just can't bring myself to write the eighth chappie of my XS fanfic. I hate it when that happens!! So I think that this might help me to break that. **

**A bit of background info on this fic: This will be a drama with a spiritual element, considering that my OC (Natasha) is a Roman Catholic. Spirituality is very important in this story, and eventually proves to be one of Natasha's main motivations. Also, this involves changing POV between Natasha and Marik. Usually, it's from Natasha's, but I'll warn you when it changes. The most part of this fic is Pre-Battle City arc.**

**I hope you enjoy this Mary-Sue-sprayed fanfiction! LOL**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything affiliated except for the OCs. **

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Natasha Romano woke to the sound of the bells tolling the seventh morning hour in the Vatican belfry. She smiled and thanked God for this sign that she was alive for one more day, not stirring until the last note was silent. The Italian teen yawned and stretched in the complete darkness of her living quarters, her hands grazing the thin metal walls as she did so.

As she had been living in that dumpster for almost eight of her seventeen years, Natasha chided herself for temporarily forgetting how cramped her "home" was. She slowly raised the plastic roof, shading her auburn eyes until they bacame adjusted to the morning light.

_Let's see..._ Natasha thought as she observed the entrance to the alley way. _Nobody over there... and nobody down the alley._

Not convinced that the silence was a sign of safety, Natasha readied her pocket knife in case of a surprise attack. At last, she slowly emerged from the dumpster and gently closed the lid. You had to be careful in this part of Rome; Just because it was the Holy City didn't mean it was free of homeless criminals. Natasha was the proof of that.

Natasha gripped her knife, now hidden in her ragged grey trenchcoat, until she was in a safer part of the city. There were puddles scattered throughout the brick road from last night's rain. Having no alternative water source, Natasha took a double handful of water and washed her face in it. She ran her hands through her golden, wavy hair, long since tawny with grime.

On a whim, Natasha examined her reflection in the water. She was painfully short despite her tall, Ancient Roman lineage, though this was due to malnutrition. Each of her hollowed cheeks bore thin scars from old fights and bruises from more recent ones. Her clothes were tattered and cramped her body, and were horribly mismatched. Then again, she had gotten these clothes from a shelter three years ago and had chosen whatever fit at the time.

The hot-pink and white Powerpuff Girl sweater she wore was origionally knitted for a twelve year-old; its sleeves passed her elbows by only an inch, and the hems stopped above her navel. In sharp contrast, her camo pants were baggy and required a tight belt. Her battered tennis shoes were now open-toed and had holes in the soles and heels.

Hunger rumbled peevishly in Natasha's shrunken stomach. Thoughts of water led to thoughts of food, thoughts of food led to yet another sin on a long list. It had been six days since her last confession, hadn't it? She'd go tomorrow. No point in feeling guilty before breakfast.

The people in the main part of Rome were already busy in morning transit. None met Natasha's downcast eyes as she walked down the street, only taking care to step around her. This suited Natasha fine. It'd be a lot easier if no one noticed her intrusion in the glorious, clean, beautiful part of the city.

Light bounced off an apple into Natasha's eyes, and she blinked. Just looking at the tantalizing crimson skin that was truly the food of the old gods was enough to make Natasha's mouth water.

She could hear the vendor sweeping the entrance of his shop not fifteen feet from where she stood. He watched her cautiously for a few seconds, then returned to his cleaning when Natasha appeared to turn to walk away. But Natasha did not walk away. The need, the _desire_ to eat commanded her to stay.

The vendor's back was to her, and if she was careful, no one on the rest of the street would be the wiser. Just to be certain of her surroundings, Natasha glanced at the vendor's back. The opportunity was hers for the taking, and so was one of the apples. She pocketed her prize quickly and looked back at the still unsuspecting vendor.

_Didn't get me this time_, Natasha thought with a smile.

_No! It's not enough_! The hunger twisted in her stomach insistently. One apple wouldn't satisfy her for long, that much was true. Since the shopkeeper still had his back to her, taking a second, or even a third, would be simple.

Natasha reached out for the second apple, unwittingly glancing up the street at two men walking in her direction. She pocketed the apple and observed the men after rechecking her surroundings.

**A/N: (Guess who these guys are)**

They were obviously foreign, and dressed in strange, violet hooded robes with a chain collar. One looked to be over six feet tall with a single black sidelock on his left side.

Natasha wrinkled her scraggly brows in amusement at the second foreignor, who had layered cloud white hair that was probably the same length as her own. When the men got a bit closer, Natasha could see that the taller one was most likely and attendant/bodyguard to the second, who carried himself imperiously even though he was about her age.

Impatient growls in her stomach called Natasha's attention back to the task at hand. Would going for a third be pushing it now that the man and teen were so close? Natasha looked to her right and saw that the vendor's face was partly visible. Not good.

She looked to her left, and locked eyes with the white-haired teen. He was a damn fine boy, with his tan skin and lavender eyes...

Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Natasha broke her gaze and snatched a third apple, this time near the bottom of the pyramid. Seeking vengeance for their kidnapped brothers, the rest of the apples came tumbling down in a damning avalanche.

Natasha had leaped over the fallen apple-landmines and broken into an instinctive sprint a total of two seconds before the vendor cried, "Hey!" The only way she had to go was toward the foreignors.

She decided to karaoke-step by the white-haired teen rather than go between them, figuring the big guy probably wouldn't let her through. When she got to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the teen, Natasha locked eyes with him a second time.

Natasha knew enough about the way she looked to know that she wasn't unattractive. True, the boy had only meant to glance at her, but if you give a man the right look, he'd believe you to be the Venus herself.

The boy seemed to have a desire to stop her from getting away by means of grabbing her. Smiling smugly, Natasha obliged.

**Marik P.O.V.**

**A/N: (If you don't get the implications for this joke, then never mind.)**

Marik felt his hand close around something hard and round; the feeling stayed though the girl sidestepped behind him and sped into the adjacent alley. He and Odion bent backward to watch her turn left and disappear behind a nearby building.

_Father was right about one thing_, Marik thought bitterly._ Italy is a very strange country. _

Running footsteps announced the prescence of the furious vendor, stopping in front of Odion. Panting slowly, he asked him in a thick Italian accent, "Which way did she go?"

"Down this alley and to the left," Odion replied. "Beyond that, I don't know."

The middle-aged man sighed exasperatedly. "Her name is Natasha. She's stolen from me many a time, and only once I've caught her. If you see her, call de police."

Marik felt very tempted to tell the man to solve his own damn problems, but the need to be inconspicuous was greater. "Certainly," he said aloud in the friendly persona he would later call Namu. "Good luck in capturing the thief."

"Thank you, young man."

_Shut up and let me by, old man!_ "You're welcome. Excuse us."

Marik took a step forward, but the vendor stopped him.

_What now?! If you dare to stop me again, I'll send you to the Shadow Realm faster than you can say, "Mamma mia"!_

**A/N: (Ok, I know that bit was seriously OOC for Marik, but I couldn't help myself! LOL Let's just call it an author's liscence, yeah...)**

"Is there a problem?" Marik asked.

"There will be, if I don't get _that_ back." The vendor gestured at Marik's hand and held out his own, palm up.

Confused, Marik looked down at the indicated hand. His eyes widened a little and he handed back the apple he was holding. If the vendor had expressed gratitude in any way, Marik was deaf to it; he only nodded.

_That girl manipulated _me_ into helping_ her Marik brooded, recalling the cocky glint in the girl's auburn eyes. _The girl called Natasha... _

"Master Marik." Odion's gentle but strong voice interrupted Marik's thoughts.

"What?" Marik asked irritably.

Odion said nothing, but pointed at the roof of a building close behind them.

**Natasha's P.O.V.**

It wasn't a challenge for Natasha to climb up the fire escape onto the roof of the bakery for an easy getaway. She lay belly-down on the cool roof, her arms folded and elbows hanging over the side. Natasha grinned at the super-cute foreign boy -- Marik, did the giant call him? -- as he realized her prescence there.

After taking out one of the stolen apples and shining it on her shirt -- in the boy's plain sight -- she took a bite and mouthed the words "_Grazie mille_." A thousand thanks.

Marik looked a little annoyed at her impertinance.

_You are rather cute that way, though,_ Natasha thought. She pretended to pout, putting out her lower lip in the childish fashion. Much to her delight, Marik scowled at her. _Ooh, this is fun!_

Natasha gave him a flirty smile and soon after puckered her lips to make a brief kissing sound. The boy's embarrassed and indignant reaction was by far the most amusing to her. She laughed audibly to the two foreignors, and turned out of their sight.

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**End of Chapter one of my new drama, "Heaven Knows". Some complications already: Marik might very well think that Natasha's a little nuts. BUT that'll pass. **

**I hope you all enjoyed this, and will at the very least give me some feedback. I'd like to know if I have something here. THX SO MUCH!!!**

**- VPR**


	2. Chapter 2: Recruitment

**Heaven Knows **

**Chapter Two: Recruitment**

**Thank you, The Duelist's Heiress, for reviewing. I appreciate the encouragement. (grins) **

**Oh, in case you're curious, the inspiration for this fiction is a song by Squeeze also called "Heaven Knows". It's really good, and I think that it describes Marik and Natasha pretty well. Another really good song for this pairing is "Fleur du Mal" by Sarah Brightman. Check 'em out on Dizzler sometime!! **

**DISCLAIMER: I have no idea what the living conditions are like in Rome, Italy. I am sure that they take very good care of their people, but this is a fanfiction and I don't want anyone getting offended by Natasha's coming rant. This fanfiction is a story and a story _only_; it is not meant to criticize any government, religion, etc. **

**I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything affiliated. I also do not own the afore-mentioned songs.**

**Enjoy! **

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The early summer air moved in quietly over modern Rome, luminous with thousands of street lights. Car horns and sirens were heard on occaision, though not at all reverent to the city's history or spiritual importance.

On the twelfth floor of the Best Western hotel, Marik could easily observe the sights and sounds of the Holy City. Including the Vatican itself, sitting peacefully in the distance. This was the first time that he had ever been in a hotel. Several pop cans sat on a nearby table; two or three experimental drinks were missing from each. Marik had had the misfortune of mistaking a can of cold coffee for root beer a half hour earlier. The bitter, overwhelming flavor didn't quite suit his palate. Luckily, Odion had a taste for the coffee, so it didn't go to waste.

But enough. There were much more important matters to attend to than all these new experiences.

Marik turned from the balcony doors and pulled the drapes shut, sighing wearily. "How did we manage to recruit only one Hunter in a foreign city?"

Recruiting Egyptians was out of the question. Too many would dismiss Marik's ambition as childish fantasy, or worse, delirium. Besides, Duel Monsters wasn't that much of a hit with Egyptian teens. Yet.

"With all due respect, Master Marik," Odion rumbled, "we have only been here one day. Perhaps we should look in impoverished areas tomorrow?" He took his seat on one of the beds, can of cold coffee in hand.

"Yes. Desperate souls are more likely to join than comfortable ones," Marik mused. "They will believe that they have found an escape from a very hellish reality." He took a few sips out of a lime drink can and smiled to himself at the idea.

Odion, in contrast, leaned forward and folded his fingers thoughtfully. "Like that girl we saw today." The sight of her emaciated body had deeply saddened his inwardly tender heart, though he never gave Marik an inkling of the fact.

The comment surprised Marik. True, the incident was at once amusing and embarrassing and so was imprinted in Marik's mind, but he did not think that Odion would dare mention it. He turned to face Odion suspiciously. If this was meant to be a jest regarding the street rat's flirtatious behavior, he would not stand for it.

"Where did this come from, Odion?" Marik asked darkly.

Odion looked up at his young master. "I meant no offense, Master Marik. I was only saying that she was too thin to be healthy." He let his amber gaze fall to the floor. "There might be more teens like her around here."

A smirk formed on Marik's lips. "Considering a humanitarian career?" He chuckled at his joke and took another drink, this time from a fruit punch can. "What's your point?"

Odion gave no response to the jibe; Tact was needed to avoid offending Marik. "In that girl's case specifically, she was also light on her feet despite her skinniness, and seemed to possess a degree of cleverness. Furthermore, she could be useful in finding more recruits."

Marik scoffed. "If by 'cleverness' you mean what she did with the apple, that wasn't very clever. Anyone could have thought of that." _Though I don't understand why I didn't notice it in the first place,_ Marik thought with slight irritation._ Vexing. Why does _he_ care all of a sudden, anyway?_

"You are right about the possibility of gathering more Rare Hunters, though." He let out a laugh to ease the mysterious tension in his stomach. "Perhaps if we meet up with her again, she'll find more recruits for us. What was her name? Naomi, Natalie..."

"Natasha, sir." Odion corrected.

_Gotcha! _"Right, right, Natasha. Care to explain why you remembered?" Marik began taunting Odion when he gave no answer. "Are you _concerned_ for that girl? Always remember, Odion, we're not out to _save_ anyone. We're conquerors. Nothing more, understand?"

"Yes master. "

Odion's tone held no reluctance. This pleased Marik. "That's better. Now, about our transportation..."

"The Sicilian has secured a boat at St. Stephen's Pier, dock 27. We can leave in as soon as two days."

"Excellent." _As soon as I recruit a few brawny Hunters, and a few "specialists," I'll be ready to pay a visit to my homeland. What fun that will be. _"First thing tomorrow, we hit the slums."

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**I know that this chap was short, but I believe that quality is better than quantity in this case! (smiles apologetically) Feel free to send feedback, etc. **

**VPR**


	3. Chapter 3: Second Meeting

**Heaven Knows **

**Chapter Three: Second Meeting**

**Whew! Today is the last day of school!! -grin- To celebrate, I will update this story twice!! Once today, once tomorrow! **

**The title of this chapter speaks for itself. It switches back and forth between Natasha's and Marik's P.O.V.s. The next chapter gets into the semi-religious part of Natasha's personality. I'm back to doing long chapters.**

**I also have a source for the Italian basic phrases in this chap, . The translations will follow in the text. **

**DISCLAIMER: ****I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything affiliated, just the OCs.**

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**_The Next Day..._**

**Natasha's P.O.V.**

Thunder rumbled and shook Natasha's dumpster as rain hammered its sides. Natasha lay awake that morning thinking about the handsome white-haired boy she had seen the day before. She remembered how the sun illuminated his tan face and the way his lavender eyes seemed to glow -- then, she intentionally hit her head against the side wall of the dumpster about four times.

_Ha ha... It's really stupid. I shouldn't think about a person this much. I never do... What the hell, Mom? I thought only _princesses_ from_ fairy tales _were able to fall in love at first sight. If this is a fairy tale, I feel really cheated. _

_Why didn't you just run away with my dad while you had the chance? Maybe then I wouldn't be in this shitty dumpster thinking about shitty fairy tales that never freakin' come true!! _

Natasha screamed to high heaven and punched the dumpster sides until her fists seared red. _Damn him. Damn that stupid man I called "Father"...!!_

She remembered the look in his eyes when he left her there. It was like looking into the eyes of the executioner: Cold, merciless, cruel. Miserable from the flood of memories, Natasha was completely unaware that a tall man with one black side -ock was standing right in front of her dumpster.

* * *

**Marik's P.O.V.**

Odion stared at the dumpster in front of him. He could swear he'd heard screams coming from this alley, and the only place to hide was in this shabby metal box. His master was only two feet behind him, examining the walls for fire escapes; Odion wondered if _she _had been the reason why Marik was looking for them. A small smile crept across his lips, fading as Marik addressed him.

"There's no one here, Odion. Let's see about the next alley."

"Master..." Odion pointed at the dumpster silently.

Marik understood the gesture and walked toward the dumpster to examine it himself. He had only opened the left half of the lid about two inches when Natasha herself shot up from the bottom of the dumpster like a jack-in-the-box. Simultaneously, she grabbed Marik's collar and put her pocket knife to his jugular.

"_Tuo soldi o tua vita._" Your money or your life, the thief whispered menacingly.

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**Natasha's P.O.V. **

"_Tuo soldi o tua vita,_" Natasha whispered. Her breathing slowed as she remembered what had occurred five seconds ago. She hadn't noticed anyone was near her "home" until she heard two familiar voices. After that, instinct took over and she became a cold mugger.

No longer. Never looking away from his lavender eyes, she let go of the young man's collar and moved her knife away from his neck. Natasha saw the hint of terror in them flicker away to become fire. Of fury or of arrogance, she didn't know or even care. Together with his hair and skin, the lavender fire was beautiful.

Marik's retainer, on the other hand -- the man called Odion -- gave her an odd look: pity mixed with obvious and well-deserved disapproval on Natasha's part for threatening Marik's life.

Natasha turned her attention back to the foreign boy, with whom she was eye-to-eye due to the height of the dumpster, and smiled. _I wanted to see you, but I don't understand why._

Natasha's reverie was rudely interrupted by the appearance of three young men in cloaks identical to the foreignors'. She grinned, for she recognised all three. "Marco! What are you doing in my alley?" Natasha called in Italian.

"Recruiting. Though, I doubt you'd be interested," answered the boy with wavy black hair. "I might pay you a visit, later. " There was a threat in his voice.

_Bring it on..._ Natasha thought scornfully. She returned Marco's glare with interest.

The lavender eyed boy cleared his throat, drawing Natasha's attention back to him. "My name is Marik," he said in English. "Would you like something to eat?"

Natasha's English was a bit rusty, but she understood most of it. However, because she wanted to hear Marik's voice again, she asked him in Italian: "_Che ha detto lei?"_ **A/N: (What did you say?)**

Marik repeated the phrase again, slowly. This time, Natasha answered in English: "I'll take you up on that offer another time. There's something I have to do first. For now, though... _Per favore non dimenticarmi!"_ **A/N: (Please don't forget me.)**

With that, Natasha leaned forward and lightly kissed the left corner of Marik's mouth.

* * *

**Marik's P.O.V.**

Marik hadn't understood a word of the Italian phrase that Natasha said, and he didn't need to, now that she had kissed him. Natasha pulled her head away and jumped on the right half of the dumpster before Marik could respond. She ran toward the group of teens that he had just recruited, sliding between Marco's legs as a means of escape from the alley. Marik grimaced. Natasha was gone before he had readied his Millenium Rod.

_She might prove useful after all, considering how fast she was. But so far, she's been nothing but a troublemaker... _Marik wiped the corner of his mouth where Natasha had kissed him. _Now what could she have meant by that? _

"Shall we go after her, Master?" Odion asked.

Marik shook his head. "Let her be. We only have two days until the boat leaves, and one street-rat isn't worth an entire morning of searching and chasing."

_"One street-rat" whose face resembled a skeleton_... Marik almost pitied her. Even the boys he'd just recruited (friends of hers?) weren't that skinny. How a human that thin managed to move at all was a wonder, but Marik had an idea of how she did: Natasha's auburn eyes burned with the will to live.

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**I hope you guys aren't getting bored with this, because it gets better. R&R if you wish.**


	4. Chapter 4: Miracle

**Heaven Knows **

**Chapter Four: Miracle**

**As promised, two chapters within one day of each other. Like I said in the introduction of Chapter Three, this chapter will deal with the religious aspect of Natasha's life. It will also give a brief history of her life in Rome. However, I'm not going to do any more of that switching POV thing. It's so exhausting! -sighs- **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or its affiliates. I only own the OCs, which are plentiful and easy to spot. Also: yes, I _am_ Catholic, and no one has to agree with my religious beliefs, or Natasha's. **

**I hope that I portray religious sisters and brothers, and priests in a correct, respectful way. I admire them very much, and if I have made any sort of mistake, please tell me so.**

**That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. There's a surprise at the end that you might like!**

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**_That afternoon..._**

There was something very daunting about stepping into St. Peter's Basilica for Confession that Natasha couldn't put her finger on. A large crowd was always present in the pews, with it a serene rattling of rosaries and reverent muttering. Most of these patrons were simply pilgrims who, while their prayers for redemption were sincere, possessed a subconscious desire to pray in the spot where their Mother Church was born.

Perhaps it was because, in the midst of these sinners -- equal in the sight of God -- Natasha felt most at fault for being in such a holy spot, since she was a convicted theif. A few might go so far as to call her a _murderer_...

Shaking that thought from her mind, Natasha took her seat in the waiting pew and sighed quietly. This was the worst part of it. Somewhere in the back of every person's mind was the lingering question: "I wonder what that bum's here for."

Natasha kept her eyes downcast as always, staring at the floor and avoiding the gaze of any and every other waiting patron. More than anything, she feared being recognised and turned in.

At last, it was her turn. Natasha got up, crossed herself, and stepped into the confession room, feeling the curious -- and concerned -- gazes stab the back of her head.

Natasha knew Padre Paulo well enough to look him in the eyes when she confessed. He was one of a precious few people who wouldn't judge her.

Padre Paulo greeted Natasha with a kind smile. "Good evening, how are you?" he asked tiredly.

"Fine, thanks," Natasha replied. "I've gained some weight this week."

The priest chuckled kindly and said, "I noticed. You look a little better than you did last week."

Padre Paulo's deep sapphire eyes analyzed Natasha's face for a moment. Then, appearing satisfied in his search, he crossed Natasha and said, "The Lord is full of mercy and compassion."

Natasha responded, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession..."

She told him everything. About her thefts, the fights with Marco, Alessandro, Gabrielo, and the others, and how she still thought about Marcello on particularly lonely nights. And about the tricks she'd played on the "cute foreign boy, Marik". (Padre Paulo resisted the urge to laugh at that)

"Right," Padre Paulo said when she had finished. "I understand how the boys feel about you considering what happened to your boyfriend and all the -- uh, _drama _that came with it. But you know that you still have a chance to escape from all this."

"You mean foster care. I won't do it, Padre Paulo," Natasha's eyes burned with gentle determination. "They'll take me away from Mother. Besides, no one will take me because I'm a convict."

Padre Paulo nodded patiently. "I know, and I understand your reasons for wanting to stay in Rome. You know, Sorella Marie Bernadina is very fond of you as well."

Possibly one of the eldest nuns in the Carmelite monastery of Santa Anna, Sorella Marie Bernadina was small and stocky with a Botticelli face. She had found Natasha on her way to visit the Vatican, who was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest behind a fortress made of cardboard boxes; Natasha was almost as thin at age eight as she was now. Sorella Marie Bernadina took Natasha to the monastery where she lived, and it was there that Natasha learned to speak fluent English in a matter of months.

Natasha's talent for foreign language led the other nuns to believe that she was born to be a missionary. The sisters quickly made arrangements for Natasha to be adopted. Sorella Marie Bernadina said nothing when Natasha was taken away, though she knew Natasha's true nature: Stubborn and ambitious even then, when her foster parents moved her away from Rome, Natasha made her way back to the streets of the city where she had been born. All that she left at the home was a note saying simply, "Thank you for your kindness. God bless you all."

Again, Natasha understood the subliminal message in Padre Paulo's words. "No offense intended, Padre, but it is not enough to have the personality of a sister, brother, or a priest. You must be _called _to follow and serve God through a religious order." She was quoting a homily that he had given at a Wednesday mass a few weeks earlier. "I'll join Sorella Bernadina when I'm called."

Padre Paulo was satisfied in the fact that she'd been paying attention. "In penance for your sins, I want you to say a decade of Rosary, with a separate intention for your former comrades, and this Marik." Padre Paulo's expression became grave. "Please try to stay out of fights. A lot of bright young people get messed up that way."

Natasha recited the Act of Contrition and left the confession room. Immediately, she received curious glances from the waiting patrons. At least they had kindness enough not to stare.

* * *

**_A few hours later..._**

Creamy twilight reclined over the Vatican Dome, highlighting wisps of cirrus clouds streaking across the horizon. The bells tolled the seventh evening hour.

Natasha despised the almost mocking noise. To her they were almost like the scoldings of her overly critical "father". When the bastard paid attention to her.

The pain in her arm easily took the memories from her conscious. It was Natasha's own fault that she had to go home with a blood-streaked arm. How could she have let that idiot Marcoget a-hold of her knife? Now she was wounded _and_ weaponless. Damn him!

At last, Natasha was home. She slumped against the side of the dumpster, cradling her arm and applying pressure. It was numb from the pain, but the bleeding hadn't stopped.

Thinking that if she didn't go to the hospital, it would become infected, Natasha began to despair. Some one would recognise her for sure and she'd go to jail again. This time as an adult. As a repeat offender and a delinquent, there would be no mercy for her.

_I'm not going back there. I'm not going to jail..._ Natasha thought as hot tears flooded her eyes. _But what can I do? Someone, please, help me...!_

_"Scusi, Signora?"_a gentle male voice made Natasha jump. She looked up at the young man before her. He wore black slacks with plain black shoes and a white button-up shirt. His slick blonde hair retreated halfway to the back of his head on one side.

At first, Natasha was careful of him. It was her instinct, after all. She haunched her back defensively, but became more at ease when she saw the tender look in the young man's blue eyes.

_Padre Paulo gave me that look when we first met. But this boy seems more... holy,_ Natasha thought.

"It's all right," he reassured her. "Here, let me help you."

Wincing slightly, Natasha raised her injured arm and allowed him to bandage it.

_"Siete un medico?"_ Natasha asked coldly. **A/N: Are you a doctor?**

The young man seemed to understand that this was just another of Natasha's defenses. He answered her in Italian, "It's a little odd to ask a stranger if they are a doctor after you let them handle your injury." He paused to smile kindly. "No, I'm just a student. Call me Lolek."

_Polish? That explains the accent,_ Natasha thought. "Do you seek out the injured, or do you just help when you can?"

Lolek chuckled. "Very good. I'm not the one who seeks. I can only find, and help the ones who let me." Studying her bandaged arm, he remarked, "That was a pretty deep wound, but it will heal in time. Mind, it'll leave a scar."

Natasha curled her lip back and gestured to the scars on each of her cheeks. "I don't mind scars so much," she said passively. "I already have so many, what's one more?"

Her new friend appeared saddened that she'd answered him that way. "You know, Natasha, the soul bears scars, too, though they can't physically be perceived. Rather, the effects of such scars are seen in the person's outer personality and in their perception. It is exceedingly difficult to be hurt by a loved one, whether by their life or by their death, but despite the pain it brings, we must allow the scars to heal, and move on."

Lolek's words made Natasha forget her instinctive skepticism, instead bringing back memories of her life before she became homeless. For the first time in too many years, Natasha felt her mother's presence and love.

"You'll be all right now, my sister in spirit." Lolek rose to leave. "Things will end well for you if you go on this boat."

Natasha's instincts returned to her. "Wait! Did Padre Paulo tell you who I was?"

"I listen to him, and your Sorella Marie Bernadina often," Lolek answered sagely. "As does my master. They love you very much."

Unwilling to let him leave, Natasha asked Lolek a question that had plagued her since she learned his name. "What does Lolek mean in English?"

Lolek smiled. "It means Charlie."

Charlie... Why did that name give Natasha that bittersweet feeling of nostalgia? She racked her brain for the memory that contained this man's name, and why it was so important. Why it had been important to her and even more so to her mother...

"I'm sorry, dear one, but I must leave you now."

Lolek bent down and kissed Natasha's forehead. With it, a wellspring of vigor entered her body and heart. Emotional tears streamed down her face, rekindling rather than quenching the fire roaring in her spirit, unlike so many times before.

_"Never forget that the Heavenly Father and your Mother love you."_

Natasha opened her eyes to steal one more look at this messenger -- She knew that he was a messenger now -- but he was gone. Remembering Lolek's advice, Natasha read the piece of paper in her hand: St. Stephen's Pier, dock 27.

The Pier was on the Eastern Coast, roughly 30 miles from where she was now. Then again, Natasha loved challenges.

Intuition and memory joined in a single flash. Lolek was the nickname of Karol Cardinal Wojtyla, known to most of the world as the late Pope John Paul II.

A tear of gratitude fell and hit the pavement as Natasha whispered, _"Miracolo..."_

_Miracle._


	5. Replacement Chapter 5: Assembly

**Chapter Five: Assembly, or That Nostalgic Feeling**

**Yes, this is a replacement chapter, for those who notice as they read. I perfected a few things that I wasn't satisfied with in retrospect. I hope that you all enjoy this slightly altered version as much as the original.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or its affiliates. I only own the OCs. Also, I don't know what the conditions are in Rome, Italy, but this is just a story, and I don't mean to offend any individual or any government. Thank you for your understanding.**

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_**Two days later, at St. Stephen's Pier...**_

Marco suppressed a shudder as a cool wind moved through his thin jacket and black tousled hair. Instead, he focused on the white-haired boy -- he was a _boy _because Marco was easily two years older than him -- and the taller man in the cloak.

He glanced up at the advancing dark clouds and slightly scowled. The boat was to leave before the sun went down; Twilight was upon them now. Marco sighed impatiently and slid down so that he was sitting against a crate.

"_Como stai, Gabo?_" **(A/N)** Marco whispered to a baby-faced tawny boy that was roughly the same height as the cloaked man. The boy nicknamed Gabo continued to stare at the cloaked man with a vacant expression. "GABO!!" Marco whisper-yelled.

**A/N: Roughly, (How are you, Gabe?)**

"Mmgwuh?" Gabo walked over to Marco and sat next to him with wide blue eyes.

"What's on your mind, Gabo?" Marco asked this question like he was asking a small child. "You bored?"

Gabo nodded with his whole head. "When do we leave, Marco?" Poor kid. He was sixteen years old, but slower than molasses in January.

"Dunno. Should be soon, though." Marco called to the cloaked man with the black side lock. "Hey! Big guy! When do we leave port?"

"My _name _is Odion," he corrected sternly. "We will leave port when Master Marik says so."

"Hmph." Marco scowled at Odion's back. From the beginning, he had a sneaking suspicion that this Odion guy wasn't really the one in control. After all, the white-haired kid never seemed intimidated by Odion's size, while the other men made a point to stand clear of him. If you were subservient to someone with that much presence, wouldn't you be a little jumpy?

_Don't tell me that this "Master Marik" guy is that little brat,_ Marco thought scornfully. _Man, I follow these weirdoes all the way out here and I have to wait 5 friggin' hours just to eat. _

Marco growled in unison with his stomach. "This sucks," he muttered.

"You're just irritable when you get hungry," cautioned Alessandro, the eldest of the three boys. "Try not to snap at anyone, alright? We're not a group of thugs."

Thanks to Marik's "generosity", all of the boys were clad in fresh sets of clothes that fit them better and were warmer than their old ragged clothing, if a bit out of style. Gabo -- short for Gabrielo -- was the youngest new recruit, but also by far the biggest and strongest. In Marik's eyes, he would be good only as brawn -- a kidnapper, if needed? Marco's black eyes regarded all except Gabo and Alessandro with great suspicion. Marik didn't care for his scornful, distrusting attitude, but then again, there was nothing that a dose of mind control wouldn't fix. A spy or lookout, perhaps? The only one who was of any real use was Alessandro, the apparent leader of this group of three. He came off as naturally charismatic, and no doubt was highly intelligent. He'd make for a valued if not excellent duelist, and perhaps a recruiter.

"You never did say what you wanted in exchange for the clothes and food," Alessandro interrupted Marik's musing. By his tone, it was just his Italian pride.

"I don't _want _anything," Marik replied in a friendly tone. "I just have a proposition for all of you."

"So you obligate us to listen to this... _proposition_ by giving us food and clothing?" Marco shook his head and muttered, "You scum."

"Marco, be quiet!" Alessandro ordered. He turned back to look at Marik. "I do agree that it seems unlikely that you would do this to be generous. What is it that you propose?"

The time had come for the first great deception in a long line. Marik cleared his throat and began, "Listen, when society neglects its least fortunate people, it is rejecting the fact that those individuals will never reach their full potential as human beings if they are not provided for. Such a society must be overthrown. It is my ambition that a new, fairer order will take the place of unjust governments such as the one you all are currently under."

"So, in other words, you want us to help you overthrow the Italian government?" Alessandro was understandably skeptical. How could this foreigner possibly expect to conquer Italy, let alone the whole world? "What will be the new order, outlined?"

"Whatever he has in mind, I'd say we stand to benefit from it, so why ask too many questions? After all, 'beggars can't be choosers', as they say." All looked to see Natasha sitting casually atop a crate behind Marco. She grinned devilishly when Marik met her eyes and blushed slightly. "Hello again." _What am I doing here, Mom? This sure brings back memories._

"Hello," Marik muttered, turning redder by the minute. He still remembered Natasha's farewell kiss.

Marco turned around suddenly to glare up at Natasha. "What are you doing here?"

Natasha shrugged. "Been trying to figure that out all night. Apparently, I didn't merit an invitation." She said this so that only Marco could hear her.

"Wouldn't want a half-blind ingrate in our midst," Marco popped off in reply. "But of course, like a bad virus, you just won't die."

Marco's harsh words held no regard for the fact that Natasha had indeed saved their hides in more than one bad situation. He didn't even have the courtesy to speak to her in Italian so that Marik wouldn't understand. Unwelcome tears welled up in Natasha's eyes as she remembered how close she and Marco had been in the past.

"Enough of that!" Marik shouted with feeling. It was outrageous for anyone to say such things to a girl, especially one on the verge of tears. A second emotion, that of pity, stirred somewhere inside Marik's dark heart. No one deserved such treatment, regardless of what they may or may not have done. "What is your name, young woman, and what talents can you contribute?"

Natasha forced herself to perk up. "My name is Natasha Romano. I specialize in hacking, foreign language, and, if necessary, the many arts of deception." Marco scoffed at that. "Hacking and language are my main strengths, though," she added with no regard to Marco's attitude.

_Excellent. If what she says is true, my plan may proceed ahead of schedule. _Marik nodded in reply. "Time grows short. All who wish to take part, board the ship." He turned himself and got on board. He was pleased to hear five people follow him: the three boys were behind him, followed by a reluctant or frightened Natasha, and finally, Odion. _Why should she deserve death? _Marik wondered. _I suppose I'll seek the answer to that question upon my return. _

Natasha's pulse raced as she stepped up onto the ramp that led to the ship, which was about the size of a small yacht. Natasha was curious as to what strings the white-haired teen had to pull in order to get it. It occurred to her that she may very well never see Italy again. Silencing that last thought, Natasha entered the ship with her head held high. There was nothing left for her here, regardless of Padre Paulo's opinion.

When all were settled on board, the ship was untied from the dock and began to sail out to sea, where it would soon after turn south to Egypt.

"Now, for Phase One of this grand master plan, what will we be doing?" Marco soon demanded. "And shouldn't the Sicilian be a part of this briefing?

"Everyone will prepare for the beginning of the plan according to their talents, as would be natural," Marik began calmly, though he was already growing tired of Marco's obvious scorn for him.

"Alessandro, once we have assembled around a thousand more recruits, your responsibility will be planning troop movement. Try to think of yourself as a military commander for this role. Marco and -- Gabrielo, was it? -- will be working close together. It is important to locate any spies before they can make real trouble. Erik, the captain of this ship, will also be in charge of gaining money for us. However, I would prefer that you all learn how to play this game."

Marik held up a Duel Monster's deck for all to see and then set it on the table before him.

All four of the recruits except Gabrielo -- who was preoccupied with a window view of the moon -- looked at Marik like he'd escaped from the asylum. Marco scoffed. Alessandro laughed and shook his head, then closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. _God above, he_ is _a nut._

"And we need to learn this game… Because why?" Natasha asked. _I hate card games..._

Marik smiled. "All in good time."

Natasha nodded. Then, she frowned a bit and pointed at herself. "What am I supposed to do aside from learning the ... game?" She fought to keep herself from spitting out the word.

"For now, your task will be to research card strategies and related technologies that you can find," Marik replied. "As for your hacking and language skills, I don't have an accurate assessment of your abilities. Before I give you any further assignments, I need that assessment. So, just start learning Arabic. Upon my return, I will judge your abilities myself."

At these words, the three competent recruits frowned perplexedly. Paying no mind to their reactions, Marik continued, "However, you may find the tunnels at home to be much more crowded when I come back. I expect to bring over a thousand new people with me. Members of our organization will be called the 'Rare Hunters'. "

Alessandro was incredulous. "Why are you leaving? If you got four recruits in just two days, then with all of us together it wouldn't take long before we had the thousand people you want --"

Marik held up a hand to silence him. "Understand this much: It is imperative that we advance to Phase Two as soon as possible. The only way to really get this plan moving is for me to leave and do the recruiting myself. Excuse me for a moment, if you will."

Marik got up and stepped out onto the deck of the ship, pondering...

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**R&R please. I've been uber busy with college. X_x **

**- VPR**


End file.
